


After

by WildandWhirling



Category: 1789 - バスティーユの恋人たち | 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille - Toho, 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille - Various Composers/Attia & Chouquet
Genre: (REALLY early in the morning after), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Figuring Things Out, Fluff, M/M, Morning After, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildandWhirling/pseuds/WildandWhirling
Summary: He hadn’t really….thought of things getting this far. Alright, he had thought of them getting this far (many, many times, especially when Lazare had him called into his office and used The Disappointed Dad Voice, which had no right sounding as hot as it did), but he didn’t think they actuallywould.Ronan deals with the repercussions of sleeping with his boss.
Relationships: Ronan Mazurier/Lazare de Peyrol
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Continuity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042071) by [paint_me_a_revolution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_me_a_revolution/pseuds/paint_me_a_revolution). 



> It's well, well known at this point that I ADORE paint_me_a_revolution's Tales from the Haunted House, and I was thrilled when she generously gave me permission to play in her sandbox for a little while.

Ronan found himself face down in unfamiliar, cool sheets, not like the three throws and a pillowpet that he usually plopped down in at the end of the night. 

Weird, this wasn’t his usual style. 

Even if it was, the duvet that was wrapped around him felt expensive, in that “hotel bedroom” kind of way. Thick, weighted, probably filled with real goose feathers, the kind of thing he’d never been able to afford and wouldn’t have bought even if he could because there were a hundred other things he could buy (like one of those cool infomercial things that he tried to get Soléne to buy for his birthday). 

This wasn’t his bed, so why-

_ Oh _ . He turned over, looking at the stark white ceiling, which looked more gray in the darkness.

This was Lazare’s bedroom. Lazare’s bedroom where Lazare slept. Lazare’s bedroom where he’d…

There was a clenching in his chest. Not quite butterflies, but heavier. God, he’d really fucked his boss, hadn’t he? He hadn’t really….thought of things getting this far. Alright, he  _ had _ thought of them getting this far (many, many times, especially when Lazare had him called into his office and used The Disappointed Dad Voice, which had no  _ right _ sounding as hot as it did), but he didn’t think they actually  _ would _ . Lazare was twenty years his senior, formal, strict, no-nonsense, and insanely, insanely, out of his league. And his boss. Which Ronan didn’t really give a damn about, but he knew Lazare  _ would _ . 

Then, his car broke down (Bessie had probably lasted well over ten years past her glory days, especially given that she’d survived Ronan’s teen years, where he might have accidentally veered into a telephone pole once or twice here and there), Lazare offered to drive him home, they started talking because what ELSE was there to do on a forty minute commute, they pulled over to get a McDonald’s when Ronan’s stomach started to complain about the yoghurt that he’d shoved in his mouth on the way out the door that morning, and somehow it ended up with him in Lazare’s lap in the backseat, trying to remember how to breathe when there were a hundred other things that seemed more important, like Lazare’s hands settling firmly at his spine, and then they were in Lazare’s house, then they were in Lazare’s bedroom, and then he was there, and it was-

Hey, what time  _ was _ it?

It was still dark outside, Lazare’s heavy curtains blocking out the windows, but there was definitely no light on the other end. Sometime before about 6, then. And Lazare-

He turned over, a hand reaching over to touch the other man (his….boss? His boyfriend? What did he call him now?), only to come into contact with a sea of empty sheets. 

Huh. He was gone. Just like that. Beneath the door, there was a sliver of golden light. 

Well, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms out, he wasn’t getting back to sleep this way. 

First off was trying to find his phone, which required a bit of searching, given that he’d left it in his pockets the last time he checked and his clothes were still scattered all over the room. It was a matter of trying to figure out which random piece of fabric he tripped over was which, with his jeans in a heap by the door. He shook it upside down, the phone falling into his hand. 

The light on the lockscreen (which was too bright at that time in the morning) said 4:15. 

He didn’t bother to put on the pants or any of the other clothing. Lazare had seen him naked once before, it wasn’t like it was a shock. The door creaked as he opened it, stepping outside. (He realized, seeing the light switch handily standing by the door, that instead of falling over himself trying to figure out where everything was, he could have turned it on, but where was the fun in that?)

Lazare wasn’t really that hard to find, all things considered, given that he just had to follow the light to the kitchen. Lazare’s kitchen looked like if Apple decided to start selling kitchen products. Tons of sleek instruments in white and chrome and black, all of them clean and polished, with tons of buttons that he felt the urge to press every time he was in the area, just to see what they did (how many buttons did a coffee machine maker need, anyway?), the black marble countertop wiped down and spotless. And there, in the center of it all, sitting at the kitchen table, he found Lazare sitting down, an empty look on his face as he stared down a mug of black coffee. Unlike Ronan, he had at least pulled on his grey work pants, though he remained shirtless.

“Hey,” Ronan murmured, though what came out sounded more like a zombie moan, burying his head in Lazare’s neck, “What’s the matter, huh?” 

“We slept together,” Lazare said. 

“I’m pretty sure,” Ronan said, and then exaggeratedly arched his back, “Yep, definitely sure. I’m going to be feeling that one for a couple days.” 

Lazare continued to stare into the coffee, focused on the swirling liquid. 

“You regret it?”

More staring. And then, slowly, Lazare opened his mouth. “I slept with my employee who is half my age.” 

“Hey, I’m an adult,” Ronan propped himself up on the table, not bothering with one of the two chairs. “I’m 26.” 

“Oh, God, he’s 26.” Lazare said, apparently to the coffee cup. 

“Look….” Ronan took Lazare’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, brown eyes framed with worry lines meeting green. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted it. I’ve wanted it for a long time. And-I  _ liked _ it. I’m a grown man who made the choice to fuck my boss.” 

Lazare winced. “Why did you have to say it like that?” 

Ronan scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure there are many ways to say it.” 

What else was there really to say?

‘Had biblical knowledge of his employer?’ 

‘Went to pound town with his boss man?’ 

‘Climbed the executive suite?’

Lazare sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to be summoned from the depths of his soul. “You do realize this will change everything?”    
  
“I was kind of going for that, yeah.” Ronan took his hand off the counter, running his fingers along it. 

“I can’t play favorites.”    
  
“Not asking you to.” He wouldn’t be happy if the only reason he did well was because he was fucking the boss, anyway. “I’d just as soon not have everyone know about this right away, anyway.”

“I’m not….easy, to deal with. Being in a relationship with me might be difficult.”    
  
“You think I am?” 

Lazare gave a half-hearted chuckle, pressing a kiss to the back of Ronan’s hand, then sobered. “You deserve someone younger, more carefree. Someone who you can go out with on Friday nights.” 

Ronan ran his finger along Lazare’s knuckle. “But I want  _ you _ . That’s enough for me.” And, anyway, after having Lazare, he wasn’t sure that a drunken grope in a backalley with a guy who thought that Axe Body Spray was Axe Body Wash was really his speed anyway. He didn't want late nights, or loud noises, or going out on a bender. Yeah, sometimes it was nice to get a little drunk, but he could do that at home if he wanted. It was more the company that he wanted, and he could get that from splitting a bottle of wine at home. 

Lazare pressed his forehead against Ronan’s, finally setting the coffee aside. “You are impossible.” 

Ronan pressed back, wanting to hold onto Lazare while he was like this for as long as he could. “I am.”   
  
Lazare gave a smile that made Ronan feel like he’d climbed Mt. Everest, won the lottery, and been given a lifetime supply of chocolates all at once. Then, he looked down at Ronan, his eyes widening. “And naked. Why are you naked?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because-you-” 

“Hey, it’s nothing you’ve not seen before, right? You complaining?” 

“No, I-” Lazare swallowed, and Ronan bit back a grin at how cute he was when flustered. “Not at all.” 

Ronan kissed him, Lazare’s beard scratching along his face, and it was different, he didn’t think he’d ever really kissed anyone with a beard before, and Lazare was still his stern boss and it was  _ weird _ , adjusting to getting to touch and kiss him, but-

It felt nice. Right. 

And he liked the way Lazare kissed him, softly, tenderly (and he thought he would hurt  _ Ronan _ ?) all the tension in his body melting into Ronan’s fingers and mouth as he pulled Ronan onto his lap, Ronan laughing softly. 

At the office, he never really got to see Lazare relaxed, especially at peak season, where he was constantly running around, making sure everything in the house was ready and running smoothly, dealing with a zombie army of Karens who were furious because they hadn’t read the signs and now Little Timmy was traumatized. He stroked his thumb against Lazare’s cheek, and Lazare in turn nuzzled against his neck, and it was nice. 

“Hey Lazare?” He murmured, already feeling sleep pulling him down again now that he was warm again.

“Hm?”

“Can I touch the coffee machine?”   
  
“No.” 

“I promise I won’t break it.”    
  
“Still no.” 

Silence. 

“Will you take me back to bed?” 

Lazare stroked his back. “We still have a lot to talk about.”    
  
“Hm,” Ronan said, not really wanting to commit to the adult conversation that he knew they would have to have. He didn’t like having big, in-depth conversations about planning and responsibility and how they were going to handle this, and what they were going to tell their friends and coworkers. It was much easier to just play this by ear and figure it out as they went. But he was with Lazare (God, he was with Lazare), and Lazare would want a roadmap, and so he would go over every little detail that he wanted. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“What will we tell the others?” Lazare continued to rub his back, and he found himself being pulled down into sleep more and more, but he didn’t have the energy to tell him as much because it was too soothing and Lazare had the bad habit of being practical and they couldn’t have a conversation if Ronan was unconscious in his lap. 

“For now?” Ronan nuzzled against him. “Let’s keep it on the down low. Figure it out as we go. If we split up a week later, fine, no one has to know. If it’s a couple months later and we’re still together, we figure out what to say then.” It was selfish, he knew, but he didn’t really want the others to be in on it yet. This was  _ his _ special relationship with Lazare, and he wanted to wrap himself up in that oxycotin-coated, new relationship feeling as if it was a warm blanket. He didn’t want to have to deal with the outside world, not yet, when it could be just the two of them trying to figure out how to make this work. (Anyway, Soléne would never let him live it down one way or another.)

“Are you really up for keeping a secret for that long?” It shouldn’t have made his heart skip a beat to hear the “that long,” as Lazare had started talking about it like a  _ relationship _ . It wasn’t going to be a one-time thing or a two time thing, he was thinking long-term. And he guessed that that did make the long, boring relationship talk worth it, if it meant that Lazare believed that it was something that needed planning.    
  
“Hey, it’s not keeping a secret. It’s just….not telling anyone. Not immediately. I’m not keeping any secrets.” 

“Hm.” This time, it was Lazare’s turn to make doubtfully positive noises.    
  
“I can do it!”    
  
“Hm.” 

“I beat Soléne at Ninjas every time when we were younger.” He was one cool ninja, too. Except for that time he fell out of a tree while trying to plan a sneak attack. That was embarrassing. And painful.    
  
“Hm.”    
  
“You’re just saying that.”    
  
“Hm.” 

“Asshole.” Ronan kissed him again. “Take me back to bed.”

“Already giving orders,” Lazare rose up, carrying him in his arms as he did so, and Ronan’s arms flew around his neck. (Lazare was strong, he thought, stronger than he’d noticed, and fuck if he wasn’t somehow even more attracted to him now than he had been.)

Making his way to the bedroom, he lowered Ronan on the bed, settling in beside him and throwing the covers over both of them. Ronan curled up against his bare chest, and in the darkness, he could see the outline of a smile on Lazare’s face, the other man stroking his waist, and they were fine. They were going to be fine. 

And the next morning, when he awoke without Lazare there, it was to the smell of an omelette wafting from the kitchen to the bedroom, a faint sizzling sound audible. Shortly thereafter, Lazare came in, carrying two plates with omelettes, sausage, and toast (“I had no idea what you liked,” he said, Ronan already shoving whatever he could reach into his mouth), and Ronan decided that he could get used to this. It was….normal, domestic, and somehow, despite having no idea what to do, it seemed to all fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle he hadn’t even realized he was completing until the last piece was in. 

(As he dug in, he decided that he was going to marry that man, one day. He didn’t know it yet, he wasn’t going to tell him, because he knew that Lazare still had to catch up, but he was.) 


End file.
